


To love and to cherish...

by LenaLanders



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Dominant Paul, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Romance, Schneider is a pain in the ass neighbour, Uniform Kink, because I love Schneider when he is mad, submissive Richard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-10-12 03:09:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaLanders/pseuds/LenaLanders
Summary: Paul works as a guardian and risks his life every day, protecting the transports of big money between banks in Berlin. Richard is a journalist and music critic who spends all days missing Paul and feels lonely. Finally, he comes up with an idea that Paul doesn't like.





	1. Mr. Bad Luck

In contrast to Friday the 13th, which even a stupid mushroom picking could turn into a battle for survival, the persecution force, commonly known as life bad luck, had a smaller arsenal of weapons. It had no head for the complicated logistics of natural disasters. Instead, she masterfully smoked toast, broke cups from porcelain sets, sprayed ketchup on freshly washed clothes, jammed elevators between floors and tangled the legs of innocent victims.

Sometimes, however, the persecution force would watch people carefully, wondering who to make life difficult for, who is so susceptible material that it would spoil something, or possibly completely destroy life.

It was the same on that gloomy day, when summer decided to give up the warm image, with which he had stirred his senses throughout June, July and most of August, thus dulling the general vigilance of society. In one morning the world became grey, cold and rainy. Surprised passers-by were crumbling under umbrellas, and equally surprised car drivers were gliding sluggishly through the streets of the city.

Everyone thought only about holidays, naively believing that autumn would pass unnoticed without any sudden drop in temperature or local flooding. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Bad luck liked holidays. Nothing like Christmas is conducive to injuries! Burned lips with soup, fingers cut with decorative paper with Santa's motif, broken hands after falling down while dressing the Christmas tree.... Oh, yes, Christmas is a survivalist.

Meanwhile, the city was getting deeper and deeper in the rain and the afternoon boredom. Potential victims were already hiding in their homes, armed with slippers and warm sweaters.

After another unsuccessful search for the victim, the bad luck already wanted to give up and return to loosen the shoelaces for innocent children, which almost always resulted in a broken tooth, until finally.... After saw who was sitting in a black BMW in the afternoon traffic jam driving slowly, the bad luck laughed like a pig.

The gates of paradise spread silently and Paul Landers entered the land of happiness. After passing an advanced age bodyguard, he set off along a luminous alley to meet Italian food, pasta, shellfish and various sauces. Whatever your heart desires.

The fierce blue shade of shop light reminded him of the dreams he had of performing as a musician on stage. Even more, as a guitarist. It always looks the same. He is accompanied by five other men and they all form one band. It's loud on stage, tens of thousands of people are chanting the name he hears loudly, but he can't repeat it, and clouds of fire are blowing from all sides. The music is clumsy, heavy, rhythmic. Paul repeatedly wondered about the meaning of his dreams, even went to a psychologist, but did not receive a clear answer. He heard that these were some kind of inner desires, which he did not realize in his life.

He never thought about being a musician. He devoted his life to a career as medical rescue service for several years, before his thirties he was assigned to the army as a physician, and after six years of service and constant trips abroad he settled down in Berlin, where he met the love of his life. Now, as an adult man who had to deal with a lot of money and dangerous situations every day, he parked his tired legs in front of a pasta rack and began to wonder if he might be defeated for the first time in his life.

He stood up for a few minutes before the same bookcase and enjoyed gastronomic analyses, internally emotionally vibrating, and externally miserable. His sunny beauty, which used to make everyone smile at him, was now worn out and washed. As if someone washed out all the life signs from him. The grey strands of hair began to grow braver in a tousled black hair and the eyes faded slightly. Dressed in black trousers and heavy boots, he didn't recall himself from a few months ago. The last time was hard for him and not very gracious. The work became difficult and demanding, at home something was still breaking down and needed to be repaired, the car refused to cooperate in the worst moments and his gearbox constantly broke down, rent increases, extra anti-smog fees in the heating period and this terrible insulting diva, delicate like a plant that reacted with hysteria to just any mention of moving to another city. Or to the countryside. Oh, no, he couldn't stand the village! Paul was well aware of this, so the subject of his trip to the village was constantly postponed until later.

When one sunny Saturday morning he took out from his mailbox a file of envelopes that had been unseen for a long time, Paul realized that the owner of the tenement house in which they lived had apparently gone mad. Raising the rent almost twice exceeded his financial possibilities, so Paul asked for additional shifts at work and since then started work like a dog.

This time, beaten by pasta of all kinds, Paul simply took the first better one to be found closer to him, he chose the accessories and decided that it must be enough for an exquisite dinner. Candles can be lit to save electricity, and instead of wine will be beer, because the wines are for women.

Half an hour later, he unloaded the filled to the brim with shopping nets from a car parked on the street and, having closed the boot with his foot, set off to the entrance gate of the tenement house.

He was already halfway to the door, with a key in his hand, when suddenly a familiar voice resounded between the buildings.

˝Good morning, Mr. Landers! Look, what a terrible weather!”

Paul rushed nervously, stopping in half a step. _Well, yes. The old Mrs. Heckmann and her fixation still lasted at the station_. Paul raised his head and there he always saw an old woman in a window on the second floor who had been harassing him for five years. Well. Before evening falls, the whole district will know that Landers has returned home.

The old lady obviously didn’t keep up with the times and had no idea that the guy Paul lives with was not his brother, not his friend, but his partner, as most of the locals knew, but the old lady couldn’t reach it. She didn't recognize such a thing and didn't know it existed and it appears naturally in nature.

Paul instinctively twisted the key in the lock and the door opened with vigour, letting him in. He walked through the chill in the darkness of the staircase and started to haggle his shopping on the third floor.

Suddenly, a face in glasses leaned over the staircase railing, looking with curiosity at who was also crashing at the gate.

˝Richard?”

_For heaven's sake_, Paul groans in the spirit of the breathless, putting nets under the door of the apartment. _Do these old women have no life at all?_ As far as he could remember, one was hanging in the window forever, the other fortified at the door again, ready to yell at when someone knocked the heel too loudly on the floor.

˝No, Mrs. Josefa. This time it's me."

˝Paul?”

˝Yes, Mrs. Josefa. Paul.” He replied, trying not to hiss too much.

˝Oh, wait, I have something for you here!” A moment later, with home slippers hitting the floor until the echo was carried throughout the cage, old lady went down to the third floor. Unlike the neighbor from second floor, she was a very friendly pensioner, and at the same time extremely curious. ˝The mailman was in the morning, he brought it, but you weren't home. So I took it. I thought I'd give it back to you when you got back from work.” She handed Paul a sealed envelope with a very visible print name LANDERS.

Paul sighed at the thought of another bill to pay.

˝Thank you.”

˝How are you? Is everything right?” The old lady smiled kindly. ˝How do you live?”

˝Normally.” Paul responded. ˝We are struggling with everyday hardships.”

˝I see that you have been working a lot lately. You look bad, you should take a vacation. Maybe go somewhere? You will rest a bit.”

˝Vacation? You don't even know how many bills we have to pay this month. My head hurts with all this. If anyone is wondering how people live in relationships ... deviating from the social norm, I will tell you: AS SAME AS OTHERS. Without any difference. And now I'm going home to yell at this idiot who didn't even go downstairs help me for shopping.” Paul sighed and closed his tired eyes.

˝Don't be so harsh for him, he also works a lot.” The lady said friendly.

˝Mainly at home, he could also take care of the household of the bundles in front of the notebook over and over again.” Paul growled.˝Well, have a nice evening Mrs. Josefa.”

Paul tucked the envelope straight into his coat pocket and immediately began to toll at the door. After a minute of standing on the doormat like an idiot, Paul decided to open the door with a key.

_That moron went out again somewhere!_

The lock clicked, the hinges creaked and the door opened, it was already dark in the afternoon, and the tiled stove so hated by Paul now nicely warmed the interior, making the atmosphere at least a little nice. He quickly took off his heavy black shoes and came to kitchen, where he put the grids on the table. The windows were closed and the blinds were lowered halfway.

_Where is he?_

A smell of cigarette smoke came to his nose.

_He smokes on the balcony again and doesn’t care about anything._

Driven by the smell, Paul went through the hall and the living room until he finally stood at the balcony door, where Richard, leaning against the railing, watched the neighbor's cat trying to catch the pigeon on the sidewalk with an improperly pinned ass.

˝What the hell are you doing?” Paul raised an eyebrow and Richard laughed silly.

˝Hello, I didn't know you were back.” He put out his cigarette, crushing it to the windowsill, leaving a black trace of ash.

˝It's six pm in the afternoon, I usually finish the shift at four o'clock.”

˝So where were you two hours?” Richard asked uneasily and confused.

˝I went for shopping. Now I'll tell you something, I'm going to take a bath and you will make dinner. Something that is possible to eat.”

˝I won't get a welcoming kiss?” Richard looked surprised at Paul's reply, and seeing his serious face, he stopped smiling.

˝I can only give you a kick in the ass for start-up.” Paul said. ˝Go to the kitchen, now.”


	2. Stream of snappy thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard misses Paul's closeness. Paul is an ideal employee at work, obediently carrying out all orders, but at the night he likes to take control of Richard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature!

Paul was surprised to discover that Richard had made progress in the cooking category. If he had been a bit malignant, he could have said that sitting at home for two whole days a week his culinary skills could have been even better, but he blamed himself in spirit for the thought and thanked the force majeure that Richard had managed to cook something normal to eat at all.

So far they have not been bothered to feed on processed food or eat burgers in local fast food, but since Richard's blood pressure jumped, Paul has said enough. It's time for the kitchen revolutions! Since then, Paul has only been buying healthy food, no artificial food, no ready-made meals. He reduced salt, spices and sugar, and eliminated as much fat as possible from his diet, replacing it with carbohydrates and protein. He also practiced regularly, and at work he carried heavy suitcases with money, which made his spine more stretched. Richard didn't even want to hear about the change of lifestyle. It was a great success that he agreed to change his eating habits, but he didn't want to run around the streets of Berlin in sneakers and tracksuits. From time to time he waved his dumbbells, working out his chest, shoulders and biceps in front of the TV during the morning breakfast gymnastics and believed that this would be enough for him.

Paul thought he had to change his tactics and one morning when Richard was standing in the shower, Paul burbled something about a few pounds in excess. Richard completely ignored his attention, ostentatiously parading around the apartment without clothes. Usually then Paul would get the momentum and run around all the rooms, closing the open windows and covering them with roller blinds.

Richard accepted himself and had no problem with the concept of nudity. Unlike Paul, who went to work every day and looked around with worry about whether a neighbor passing by their apartment door might start looking at him suspiciously or ask why it was so loud last night.

This stressful lifestyle, connected with the eternal risk at work, made Paul suffer. He was stressed, overworked and angry with himself that he did not devote as much time to Richard as he should.

And Richard felt more and more overwhelmed by his loneliness, but he never thought to complain. He was afraid that he would hear something like: maybe we should break up? Richard worked shifts. Five days a week, from Monday to Friday, he spent in the studio listening to the latest hits, singles, songs and everything that was to be played on the radio, and the following week he was at home staring at his laptop, trying to write some normal review without offending anyone. Though sometimes he was squeezed in his mouth about what he thought about modern "music" and its performers.

Thus, when Paul returned from work, Richard was sitting on a couch with an inseparable cup of coffee and a laptop on his lap, not even noticing the presence of his partner who was literally staggering on his feet. They threw a quick "hello" at each other in the air, and then had lunch together. In fact, Paul ate alone, because Richard always had time to eat beforehand. When they had the opportunity to eat together, the day could be considered as a national holiday.

Ever since Richard became a publicist, he has been lost in an excess of duties. Hours of writing made his wrists hurt mercilessly and his eyes were still tearful. He also used reading glasses more and more often. During his week at home, twice on days chosen by the editor, he visited the office for a few hours, where he had to discuss his articles with the publisher. It was up to the people from the publishing house to decide whether they would be allowed to be published.

Richard was known for have-a-ready-tongue and honesty, so his publisher had trouble controlling his temperament. Paul repeatedly explained to Richard that people need to be respected, treated in a human way, but Richard answered that it is he who is here to judge and can do it as he wants. Usually then Paul gave up and didn't provoke further discussions, because he knew that he would not win against Richard and his convictions.

How did it happen that two so different beings decided to share their worries, joys, sorrows and all the problems of everyday life? Richard valued order above all else, and Paul valued practicality. Richard was angry when Paul left the dirty dishes in the sink, while Paul left it with a magical spell: Leave me alone.

He was completely absorbed in his work and did not intend to waste any time cleaning up. He thought Richard and his innate talent for housekeeping was enough to take care of everything.

In addition, Richard could get upset in a few seconds, and when he got enough excitement, he was doing damage reminiscent of a Tornado.

Paul was more stable, calmer, he judged the reality and with a cold calculation . He could listen to others while Richard let his emotions carry him: anger, love, passion, desire, aggression.

That's why he chose one profession over another. As a journalist, he could live out his life, throw out all his emotions and show a part of himself. And music, as he thought, should release emotions in people! Not only the good ones, but also the bad ones. It couldn't be like a stone, good journalism is about reliability and writing down facts, music journalism is supposed to make a journalist get goose bumps at the very sound of guitars in a good, metal song.

Paul became a paramedic because he believed that his calling in life is to help others. During his military service in army he proved himself as a medic, he humbly obeyed orders and had no problem with obeying someone higher up. He also liked risk, but moreover, he valued the safety of society more. He wanted to protect, he wanted his skills to be useful for something.

Richard had a truly bipolar personality. If at this point, dear reader, you thought Richard was an emotional gay in a skirt, then I must worry you. Richard was a perfectionist who went mad and angry when something goes wrong. Either he was angry or he was emotional about himself, laughing or crying, screaming or moaning, which made Paul shiver like a leaf in the wind. At the same time Richard was light-hearted and with a smile on his face accepted what life gave him . He liked to laugh and most often laughed at Paul. Paul, in turn, still had an impression that he was being persecuted by bad luck.

On that one afternoon, bad luck decided to take some time off and made it possible for the two so longing for normality to sit down for a meal together. Paul said this could be the beginning of a pretty good evening unless Richard started hysterical again.

Paul was a man of principle. These rules, however, for the most part contained a very strong element of male view of the world and were not suitable for quoting in elegant company, such as where everyone wears socks in the same color. Richard repeatedly explained to him what the principle of flexible language is, and while in his publications he often squeezed a curse, he usually abstained in the company. This was the only moment when Paul did not have to control him.

Paul, on the other hand, was a man looking at the world with eyes full of confidence, searching for danger everywhere, but at the same time he could be kind to his neighbours, for example. Paul did not have the opportunity to learn elegant vocabulary because he did not attend elegant parties. At least once a month, Richard ran to a ball or a journalist gala where, armed with a suit and a glass of champagne, he smiled at everyone and pretended to like them, telling funny anecdotes from life at the same time. And he could be nice! Soon after that he would go home, change into tracksuit, lie down on the couch and sigh: I hate these people.

When Landers was on duty, the neighbors in the entire tenement house could sleep peacefully. Only Paul didn't sleep at night, listening to Richard's snoring and wondering how much more he could take before he went completely crazy.

After the meal was over, Paul waited fifteen minutes and was happy to find that his stomach didn't hurt and his guts didn't fall on the floor, so the dinner was edible. Richard didn't screw up anything and didn't even try to poison him. There is hope in his heart!

"I think I didn't appreciate you. You’re really trying.” Paul honored Richard's back with sweet voice, when he was washing dishes, like a real housewife. The male of the house slowly approached him to try to repair the nerves that had been tattered all day.

Richard shuddered slightly, feeling a pair of strong hands on his hips, embracing him.

"I have to wash the dishes, come on.” Richard muttered, although in the depths of his soul he felt appreciated. Paul was usually quite spared to compli't Richard occasionally telling him something like "_I missed you_” or "_You look pretty today_.”

However, Richard had to admit-he heard it definitely too rarely. Prose everyday life definitely overwhelmingly intimate life and love.

"Leave the dishes, they are not the most important thing." Paul, as befits a practical man, scented the opportunity to seduce Richard and spend the evening with him in a pleasant atmosphere and a bit of intimacy, which was given away by tax offices and other heartless institutions.

"But I have to wash them.”

"I said leave it. Now.” Paul commanded, and Richard obediently turned off the water. "I missed you a lot." Paul said, carresing his partner’s naked torso under the black shirt.

"I missed you more." Richard put his fingers through Paul’s dark hair. He wrapped his arms around Paul again and kissed him hard. Paul missed the taste of Richard on his lips. In between a breath he was able to slip his tongue into Richard’s mouth. Richard was submissive, used to this and didn't fight back for dominance. He loved it.

Then there was the way he kissed him. No woman or man Paul had ever could compared to Richard's trembling lips against his, murmuring his name in pleasure.

Richard sat up on the worktop, still kissing Paul as he rocked his hips, edging deeper until Paul heard hitched breaths and soft moans escaping his own lips.

He felt Richard moved to his neck, wet kisses there too, running his fingers through his muscled back. Richard kissed all the sensitive spots that Paul had never known were there. His body tightened in reaction.

Richard broke the kiss, Paul looked at him with concertn that something went wrong. He wasn’t sure. Suddenly Richard’s voice shattered the silence.

"I love you, Landers." Richard run his nails down Paul’s back; his spine contracted under his skin and he felt close to shifting. He held Paul under his skin like a beast, groped his lower back. his arm slid down and Richard made a satisfying grunt. "I can feel something hard. What is that?" He raised his eyebrows and bit his lip.

"It’s my gun. Wait, I'll put it away in a safe place.” Paul disemroiled himself out of Richard’s arms and he reached back with his hand, he took the weapon out. It was Heckler&Koch P30 pistol.

"Is it loaded?"

"Maybe.” Paul answered provocatively. "Babe, I don't want you to hurt yourself. I’ll put it down, it's dangerous.” He kissed Richard again, pushing into Reesh’s mouth with his tongue, sucking on his top lip, licking into him, trying to taste more and more, reached up to cup Richard’s jaw, touching every inch of his skin.

Richard broke the kiss.

"What’s wrong, babe?” Paul asked reached up to cup Richard’s jaw, touching every inch of his skin.

"You put your gun away, but I still feel something hard in your pants.” Richard whispered right to Paul’s ear.

The kissing made it worse and all he could do is to keep his hips still now that he knew his erection was pressing against Richard. He felt like he was on fire.

"You taste so fucking good. I go crazy when you’re so bossy. Tell me what to do. I’ll obey, master.” Richard moaned loudly which caused Paul to lose touch with reality for a moment.

"Wanna take this in the bedroom?" Paul asked.


	3. Cat issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul finds a lost cat that Richard doesn't want to keep at home. Paul also meets a new neighbor, but they both don't like each other.

Ever since he remembered, the living room has only been a living room by name. The windows overlooking the southern street were almost always half covered with roller blinds and sometimes heavy curtains reaching the floor. In the very centre there was a small coffee table and two couches, on which Richard usually spend countless hours working. On the left side from the couch a large balcony was visible, while the opposite wall was occupied by a library of various books. The ever-present smell of paper was quite normal here. In every corner in a large pot stood a huge effuse flower, because Richard loved plants in his company. He claimed that it made him feel better and more creative.

He was reluctant to work in the bedroom. He preferred to do other things like lie there for half a day and think about the meaning of the existence of music labels that produce the worst sort of music, which he didn't want to review at all, and from the next pop hits he had a vomiting reflex. Rock music ended, he sighing, eating chocolates with alcohol, just in case not to reach for normal alcohol and not to get drunk with sadness. And when Paul was coming back from work, the world was getting more colourful and more beautiful and less hopeless. Richard could then complain, telling what assholes he met in the editorial office, what jerks he had to work with and how tired he was of the modern music industry.

Sometimes he thought about giving up his criticism and becoming a professional musician, but Paul didn't want to hear about it. He kept telling Richard that the music market is full of musicians these days, so it's hard to keep up and that it's hard to get listeners looking for something better than pop shit.

He didn't mean to say out loud that Richard was too old to start a career.

After a rough night, half alived Paul got a call at five o'clock in the morning, suggesting that he wouldn't show up for the morning assembly at the base. At nine o'clock he was to be at the PSD Bank Berlin-Brandenburg eG, where he and his colleague were to wait for further instructions. So at seven o'clock he was already after breakfast and morning coffee.

When he entered the bedroom, Richard was no longer in bed, but heard the sound of pouring water in the bathroom. He opened the wardrobe and took out his uniform. Black t-shirt, uniformed sweatshirt, bulletproof vest, combat military black trousers and heavy, high boots.

He dressed up, making sure he had everything he needed, checked the magazine with the gun before he slipped it into the holster. He said he would take a little more coffee to get out of the kitchen. When he entered the room, he noticed that something was moving on the window sill behind the curtain.

He approached closer, carefully pulling the curtains and noticed that the cat was sitting by the window. A big cat, yellow-eyed, with long hair, in silver colour with black stripes.

"Hey, buddy, what are you doing in my house?" Paul carefully stretched out his hand towards the cat and after a while pulled it off the window sill straight to the floor.

The cat didn't look worried about being in a strange apartment and behaved very freely.

The first thing that occurred to him was that Richard adopted the cat and didn't even tell him.

When the sound of water stopped, after a while sleepy Richard appeared in the kitchen and at the sight of the cat lying on the panels hair on his head got bristled.

"What's that? What the hell is that?" He asked pointing to a furry cat.

"I'm the one who asked what it is. Was it you?"

"You know I hate cats. I like animals, but I prefer dogs. Cats are false. What is he doing here?" Richard growled.

"I thought it was our new pet, but since you didn't adopt it.... Apparently he had to come in through an open window from the yard." Paul responded.

Richard sighed.

"Get him out of here before I get any allergies."

"Maybe he's lost and someone's looking for him now? I still have some time, I'll walk around the building, maybe some neighbor will recognize him."

"That's a good idea. Take him as far away from me as possible." Richard has hated cats for as long as he can remember. Once in his life he was attacked by a cat and almost lost an eye. His painful and terrifying childhood memories made him discouraged and unwilling to deal with cats. He didn't want to touch them, pet them, even look at them.

Paul was expecting a warm welcome and instead he got a burrow. Well, maybe Richard just didn't sleep well? He was sure Richard would feel better when he drinks coffee.

Paul took the cat in his arms and went out of the house directly onto the staircase. As he walked down, he heard the sound of an opening door somewhere upstairs.

He stopped.

"Maybe it's your owner?"

Unfortunately, it looked like this time it was just a love-to-gossip neighbor.

"Hello, Paul. Oh, who is that handsome boy? It’s your cat?" Mrs. Josefa descended from the stairs downstairs and carefully looked at the cat, who was clearly interested in the tattoo on Paul's neck and watched him with great amazement. Maybe cats don't like tattoos?

"Good morning, Mrs. Josefa. No, it's not my cat. I just found it in the kitchen. He came to us through the window. Don't you know who owns a cat in our tenement house? It's certainly not a wild cat, it's too.... clean and elegant."

Mrs. Josefa, battle-hardened in gossips, knew all the inhabitants very well. She knew who is divorcing with whom, who is pregnant and who is currently moving in, but the appearance of the cat beat her off the trail. It was the biggest and strangest cat she has ever seen in her life.

"Yes, it is certainly a domestic cat. It is very neat. Maybe he escaped somebody?"

"I think so too, I have to find its owner, probably someone is worried about him, maybe some family with a child."

"There's only one family with a child here, but they're allergic to cat hair. I am afraid that you have to look for the owner in another way. Maybe through the help of these... Well, what do you call it now? You young people..."

"Are you talking about the Internet?" Paul has already felt that he is graying. An announcement on the Internet could turn out to be a hit, but it would mean that the cat would have to stay with them for longer, until someone came for it. And this can last for a very long time. A few days, two weeks, maybe a month, or even longer. Eventually Richard in the madness of lack of humanity would take the cat to the animal shelter, and from there the cat would not leave rather quickly.

Paul sadly found out that the cat waits for a not very interesting fate.

"Beautiful cat, beautiful." Mrs. Josefa repeated and pet the cat on his head. On her gray sweater there was a big clump of fur.

Paul saw long silver white hair and felt that it was getting weak. Richard wouldn't agree to keep so much hair in this well-groomed, planted apartment. Richard kept saying that a plant is a man's best friend because it doesn't ask stupid questions, doesn't get dirty and is grateful when watered.

"Yesterday on the radio, they said that the authorities were planning to raise prices... food by up to twenty-three percent." explained Josefa, with her huge glasses. "This means that the average human being will hardly be able to afford to support his family."

"Neither a cat." Paul sighed. "Well, I'll look around the backyard and think about what to do with it." He was about to go down when suddenly he had an idea. "Mrs. Josefa, wait!"

The neighbor turned around with a smile and looked at Paul with curiosity.

"You know, I will have a problem with Richard. You yourself know what he is like.... Maybe you could take care of this cat for a few days until I find him a home?"

"Yes, I know. Richard is stubborn, another such stubborn donkey with a candlelight to look for and you won't find it. I would like to take care of him, but I have canaries and a parrot. I am a little afraid."

Last chance just missed.

"Well, yeah. That's not an option at all. Somehow we will manage on our own. Thank you, ma'am, have a nice day." Paul put the cat from his left hand to his right hand, because his left hand has already stiffened.

At the corner of his eye he noticed a tall figure climbing up the stairs. And he was about to move away to let the neighbor walk, and suddenly he felt strange. As if a cluster of bad energy filled the staircase. When he turned around, a tall man in a tasteful scarf and an autumn coat was standing in front of him, and he was holding a shopping net in his hands.

"What are you doing with my cat?!" A man, unknown to him so far, roared at Paul, which made Paul almost drop the cat on the floor. "Give it back to me immediately!" He was upset.

"Is this your cat?"

"Of course he is!" The man put the nets on the floor and pulled the cat out of Paul's hands with one move.

"This is a pure breed cat, with a pedigree! Maine Coon. His name is Apollo, where did he come from?!"

"He was in my apartment, sitting on the windowsill. Next time you better watch him, or close the windows at night." Paul growled and then returned to the apartment.

When Paul went inside, Richard was already fully dressed and stood by the coffee machine and checked every now and then to see if the weather outside had changed. He had to leave for work at eleven o'clock that day, so he still had enough time to watch the morning news and check his email. He didn't even notice when Paul approached him.

"Have you come back yet?" He said with surprise. "Where is the cat? Did you throw him out like I told you?"

"I found its owner. In fact, the owner found himself alone. He lives somewhere above us, because he went up the stairs."

"Was he happy that he found his pet?" Richard asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Oh, yes, he did. He was very pleased. The guy is damn unpleasant, he's a boor." Paul responded with serious face.

"It is morning. In the morning all the people are rude." Richard explained. "What time do you leave?"

"What time is it?" Paul looked at the clock hanging on the wall, which indicated almost eight o'clock. "I have to leave now. There will be traffic jams, I have to get to the bank on Handjerystraße. I'll be home late, don't wait for me with dinner. Perhaps I will come back while you are asleep."

"I hate your 12-hour shifts." Richard mumbled tiredly, rubbing his face against Paul's armored chest.

"I know, but it's just this one time." He replied, tightening the hold he had around Richard's waist.

"Recently, there have been several times like this. I miss you, we spend too little time together. Maybe you should go back to the army? Soldiers have nothing to do every day except combat training and..."

"Richard, they're on duty all the time, you'll only see me on leave. Do you want this? Now it's not so good, but it's probably better than seeing me once every two weeks, right? We have to survive this somehow."

"There are also private security agencies, police..." Richard started to calculate in the hope that he would hit the point.

"The police also work in a 12-hour system. Nothing will change in this respect."

"Maybe I should work with you? We would spend more time together."

Paul sighed, pulling Richard’s hands off of himself. This topic was discussed many times and every time Paul's answer was NO. First of all, he thought Richard was not suitable for the job because he was too emotionally unstable, secondly, it was too risky, thirdly, it would require some qualifications and it might take some time.

"I already told you, I won't agree. Don't try to convince me, because I'm not gonna agree anyway."

Richard didn't seem happy. His sad facial expression made Paul feel weak. He did not like to make him sad.

"I have to go now." Paul said silently, and came closer to Richard. He kissed him hard. "Be a good boy, until I come back. I love you."


	4. Where the Devil cannot go himself, he sends Richard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul spends another hard day at work and Richard comes up with an idea of how to manipulate him to achieve his goal. For that, he uses all his abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING, a little taste of smut. Again.

Paul was right again. Berlin at eight o'clock in the morning was one of the most crowded cities in Germany and perhaps even the most crowded. It was certainly one of the most crowded cities in Western Europe.

Such a big traffic jam caused Paul to get dizzy from the constant noise, car horns, the sounds of public transport engines and the general ubiquitous noise.

People rushed to work, maneuvering on the sidewalks between lanterns and rails, effectively testing tram and sometimes bus brakes, so that other people in the middle of the vehicles bumped into each other with momentum, apologizing every second and helping each other to get up from the floor. There are two places where people behave culturally: theatres and public transport. Nowhere else will you experience such a high level of personal culture.

_Excuse me, sir!_

_No, I'm sorry, it's my fault!_

_Of course not, this time it's me!_

Personal culture usually ended among the drivers of passenger cars who constantly forced their way or changed their seat belts without signalling a manoeuvre. They didn't use direction indicators and often didn't have a stop lamp on.

This time on a sunny but cool August morning, some silver Peugeot drove the road to a convoy at such a speed that an armed van had to suddenly change the lane and turn left. They found themselves on the opposite lane and almost hit someone on the other side of the road.

"Why can't people drive?! Can't they use their imagination? It is becoming more and more dangerous on the roads. Either pensioners, who haven't yet somehow been denied their driving license, or young drivers with no experience, or women who instead of looking at the road prefer to look in the mirror and fix their makeup. After all, this is a tragedy!"

Paul, torn out of his mind, looked at the road, where Peugot suddenly stopped at the red lights and his co-worker immediately caught up with the car and opened the window.

"You stupid cunt, can't you see it's a privileged vehicle?!" He roared at a confused woman who, as compensation, showed him her the middle finger and immediately turned into a side street.

"God's scolding with these women." Paul smiled ironically and shaken his head.

"Now I understand why you are with a man." Till sighed, staring at the traffic lights, waiting for the light to turn green.

"Do you think it's that simple? You're wrong. Gender has no meaning in this context. It depends on your personality." Paul answered and took the phone out of his trouser pocket. No text messages, no calls. As if the world had forgotten about its existence.

They spent the rest of their way to the bank talking and complaining about people. Speaking of which, Paul couldn't give up his morning story with his neighbour and cat as the main characters. He immediately told his co-worker what had happened to him in the morning.

Till, as always, listened to him carefully. They had been working together for three years and liked each other very much in private. In a job like this, trust was a priority, Paul had to be ready to defend not only the objects he was escorting or the monetary values, but above all his co-worker. The risk was the order of the day. They both knew that if there was such a need, they would die for themselves.

He wonder what Richard would have done then? Probably he would have stopped limiting himself to drinking alcohol and turned the apartment into a state. Even if he liked tidiness, after a while he would say that keeping it just for himself is useless.

So Paul agreed one thing with his conscience: he would not die. Even if he took part in a shooting, he will not die. And to make Richard angry. He liked to piss him off, because then Richard was hysterical like a pregnant woman. It was quite funny for Paul. Like a breakaway after a day of stressful work.

Life's like a chicken promotion at the market. At first glance it may seem attractive, but it can end in the least expected moment. Or to surprise you with a bad product.

Paul has repeatedly wondered why a person like Till, strong, uncompromising, brave and hard-line, decided to work with him. Especially since he soon found out by chance that it was the love – Paul was so enthusiastically telling about – was a man. Not a woman, old or young. A man. In the strength of age. Mature man.

They talked about it only once. Till showed above-average tolerance, although earlier he thought that he would not tolerate any such thing at work. However, he created a bond with Paul that he had never dreamt of before, when a group of masked people attacked a convoy a year and a half ago, while carrying suitcases with money from a shopping mall. Then Paul, thinking little, abandoned suitcases worth several hundred thousand euros, because Till's life was more expensive for him, and shielded him from missiles with his own body. As it later turned out, a group of teenagers who apparently wanted to be online and even broadcast their robbery live on the phone shot blank cartridge, which Paul had no idea about. For him, it was a military impulse. Luckily, nobody got hurt.

Since then, Till has trusted Paul even more and concluded that his private life should not affect his work in any way, not even the slightest.

Even though they had known each other for so long, Paul avoided meeting the people he would have had to take Richard to. Although Till met him some time ago, both gentlemen did not particularly like each other, except for a few sentences and two beers drunk in their company. Paul thought that Till was avoiding Richard and treating him differently. Strangely enough. Which Richard, of course, felt, although he could not understand.

Landers, tied to various women in his life, tired of the constant search for an ideal partner, finally gave up and then Richard appeared in his life. And that's when Paul said he had a perfect substitute under one roof.

"You know I'm not gay." Paul grunted, clearly depressed about his morning meeting with his new neighbor.

"I know. You met women in the past. God, I don't know what they were like, but they had to be a nuinsance to you if you're ended in a relationship with a guy."

"Do you think that if you fall in love with someone, does sex matter? You love him for what he is. But how good you feel about him. Not whether he has boobs or not."

Till laughed loudly.

"I have no idea, because I fall in love only with women, but if one day it turns out that I liked the guy, I will certainly tell you about it." Till said.

"You think that we are some kind of effeminate couple, like you see in TV series, where scriptwriters create an image of a stereotypical gay man. I must surprise you, but my life with Richard is not too different from that of heterosexual couples."

"Is that so?" Till raised his pierced eyebrow slightly.

"Of course not. We have the same problems. We pay bills, do shopping, take out rubbish."

"And in the evenings you stab yourself with bayonets." There was a loud laughter in the van, and Paul rolled his eyes and felt that there was no strength for this senseless discussion. "Hey, all right. I didn't mean to offend you. But maybe one day if we get drunk enough, you'll tell me some details, won't you?"

Paul turned towards Till, clearly dismayed.

"Like what?" He asked.

"For example, when it comes to impressions. You know, what it's like with a guy."

"Oh, let's stop talking about it. We're almost there. Park somewhere, check your gun and let's get to work." Paul gave a clear order. Despite a small age difference since Till was a year older than Paul, Paul had a higher rank. Till was only a junior guard due to his shorter work experience, while Paul could boast of a senior shift commander.

The tenement house where the bank was located looked like an exceptionally old building. Actually, only this street was left of the pre-war buildings. Glass office buildings appeared around, where there were neither shops nor craftsmen's workshops, which Mrs. Josefa was surprised many times when Paul told her about his work. Instead, there were large, elegant elevators in the buildings, and every morning a lot of people followed like ants one after another to the magical elevators, and then everyone on their floor disappeared, sat in the boxes and there until 3 p.m. tried to survive in the fire of corporate hate.

A private security guard who watched over one of the largest banks in Berlin during the day, seeing a powerful privileged car, immediately lifted the barrier, letting a familiar van into the parking lot at the back of the bank.

One of the men on guard stayed at the barrier, while the other approached the car.

Before they got out of the car, they checked their weapons twice, unlocked them, just in case they counted the magazines by the belt and put on gloves, helmets and goggles.

"We have good weather, we won't have to run with suitcases in the rain, like last time." The security guard said and lowered his weapon.

"Yeah." Paul purred, not very interested in the conversation.

When he got a little further away from the car, the guard came to Till.

"What is he so strange about?" He asked.

"Maybe he didn't sleep, he had a hard night." Till laughed again until Paul was forced to remind him who is now the commander and who gives the orders.

"Calm down, both of you, and get to work. Where is the money?"

"Wherever they always are, packed and ready to go, I'll take you to the safe, but I think you'll have to move your car closer to the door." The security guard took out a magnetic card from his pocket and opened a massive door in the back of the building.

Paul looked around for the last time and found that the light wind seemed positive and turned to the rest.

"Let’s do this." He said.

***

Richard came home later than he expected. The recording session in the studio was clearly prolonged by power cuts. The instruments were still out of tune and the debuting musicians were standing behind a large glass pane of foam that reminded of egg-cartoons were so stressed that the vocalist couldn't sing with his throat squeezed out of fear. Richard said that if they had such problems now, they wouldn't go on stage to people. In a word, he was disappointed, but his soul was singing for joy. He will be able to criticize them in his column again.

When he came home, it was already five o'clock, and he was supposed to be home by three. Two hours in the back!

He went into the kitchen, from which he had to clean the wholesale fur of the cat before going to work, and then he told himself loudly: no more cats! Unless they're hairless, but even a cat without hair is still a cat. And Richard hated cats.

It occurred to him that if Paul turned out to be such an animal lover that he sacrificed his uniform and took the cat on his hands, moreover, he went looking for its owner, then.... oh no, maybe he will want a cat?

Richard thought that if they had bought themselves a pet, maybe it would have brought them together again and made their work less of an impact on their lives.

How about fish? No, knowing his bad luck, the aquarium would crack and flood half the tenement house.

Canaries or parrots? Canary has feathers, and feathers are dust and mites that Richard is allergic to. That's why he has to clean up all the time, only by eliminating allergens he manages to survive the heating season in winter, then it's the worst.

Besides, the canary cannot be taken for a walk and this means that you have to clean after it. So any bird is out of the question.

He didn't even want to hear about exotic spiders or scorpions. If they had escaped from the terrarium like this, the results could have been terrible!

Mice? What's the use of holding a mouse or rat? After all, a mouse and a rat are pests.

In an act of desperation, Richard was ready to buy ants just to sit there and watch them dig corridors in the ground for hours, just.... Why?

He spread out tired on the couch and turned on the TV in the hope that some idea would come to him. Maybe something bigger like a hamster or a rabbit? No, after that you also have to clean the cage, and the cage has to be big to fit a rabbit, it takes up a lot of space. Too much. After all, there are squeezed books on all the shelves. And Richard will not get rid of books.

Flipping through the channels, he found his way to the family cinema. He made himself a popcorn, which he dug out somewhere from a drawer, opened a beer and stuck his eyes into the screen, a TV set, on which a white dog witch black spots on ruthlessly dragged his owner on a bicycle through the centre of London.

The dog ran as fast as he could, not even care less that he was putting his owner in mortal danger. Lawking between cars on a busy street, he fell straight into an alley full of shops and craft workshops, and when he managed to get out of it, he rushed straight to the park. He escaped from the stairs and gave his owner a concussion. There, the leash didn’t withstand the tension and broke, and the weary owner with impetus drove into a bench on which two older ladies were sitting. He blew up into the air like fired from a catapult and he landed in the lake scaring a herd of ducks.

The dog rushed to a meeting with a representative of its breed, of the gender defined as female.

"What can these women do with a guy." Richard sighed.

He didn't even notice how two hours of movie flew by. At the end he couldn't control his emotions and with sadness he realized that he seems to be getting older since the puppy movie almost makes him cry.

He looked at the watch. Almost seven o'clock. Then an idea came to his mind. If the local shop is still open, he has a good chance to put his plan into life.

He immediately set off on a trip to the magical land where the mandarins were overdue at the price of one euro ninety nine cents per kilo.

On the stairs he passed Paul's favourite, eternally gossiping neighbor, whom he threw on the run only a good evening and was already rushing to meet his destiny.

_This is your only chance, don't waste it. If only he would come home in a good mood._

For twenty minutes he'd been wandering around the local market with his eyes around his head and soul on his shoulder looking for products he could use in the kitchen. A quick check of the Internet helped to make the choice. Chicken teryaki with vegetables and saffron will be a hit!

At 7:45 p.m., Richard came to the apartment and immediately started preparing the best dinner. He was on guard by the oven not to burn the chicken and not to overcook the vegetables, and when an hour later he set the table and the election debate was on TV, the lock in the door grinded and the tired as hell Paul came into the house.

Paul felt a strange atmosphere in the apartment at the doorstep. The lights were off, there was a smell of baked food in the air, nothing got burnt and the fire department didn't have to intervene.

_God, what has he come up with now?_

Once he managed to get out of his shoes and bulletproof vest, dressed in a black uniform, Paul crossed the kitchen door and went dumb. When he saw the table set and the candles lit, he felt he was getting weak. For as long as he remembered he hated such pseudo-Romantic dinners and Richard knew it. They both hated them, so they lived together to escape from all the madness that average couples did.

Paul went deeper into the room and was impressed until he sat down on a chair. He unzipped his bulletproof vest and pointed his hand at the table.

"What the hell is this?" He asked.

Richard, busy washing a dirty frying pan, didn't even notice that Paul had come into the house.

"Oh, you… Already here?" Richard tried to act suprised.

"I told you I'd be back around nine. Don't change the subject, tell me, what is it?" With his index finger stretched out, Paul stared at Richard, who also looked strange. He was smiling suspiciously.

"I thought you'd come back tired so I made dinner." Richard responded. "Did you have anything to eat today?"

Paul, for a moment bewildered, graciously decided to answer the question before he finally found out what was really going on in this house.

"We ate burgers at the gas station, I didn't have time for that. I was carrying sixteen suitcases today, ten kilos each. We had to go as far as Magdeburg, shitting 188 kilometres in each direction. I'm exhausted, I come back from work and I can see it. Tell me what's going on." Paul sighed.

"Nothing." Richard tried to pretend to be innocent, but he knew that Paul would eventually squeeze the truth out of him. Sooner or later. For nothing in the world he couldn’t fall out of the role.

"Please, we've known each other too long to believe. I know exactly what your games are all about. Dinner by candlelight? Really? You better tell me what happened." Paul was adamant and wanted to hear the truth at all costs. No lies, he had been through too much with women, now he expected his partner to be honest.

Richard was silent. He knew that pretending is essential. Paul has to break. He has to trust him and swim with the current. _The rest will somehow work itself out. I think so._

"Oh, my God." Paul grabbed his head and felt a sudden increase in pressure in his veins. "No, you didn't. Please tell me you didn't do it."

"What?" Richard wrinkled his eyebrows.

"Did you smash my car?!" Paul almost shouted.

"Are you crazy? No!"

He breathed a sigh of relief. _So the car is all right_. One problem out of the question. But the rest of the possibilities are endless. It could be all about everything.

Richard thought that a little bit of drama wouldn't hurt, and he kept on playing his part. He added a little bit of spice to it, as befits an artist.

"You know what? I'm making a devotion, I'm preparing dinner, I want you to feel good, and you're reproaching me!" He got upset and Paul felt that he had gray hair once again. As always in stressful situations, in Richard the female element was heard and he started to act like a hysterical woman. Paul said it was only a matter of time before Richard start throwing plates at him or looking for signs of lipstick on his uniform.

A little bit of drama worked and Paul couldn't stand the growing guilt in him. He took advantage of the fact that Richard stood next to him and, with one move, pulled him to his lap.

"I'm sorry. I'm so stressed, it's been a damn long and hard day, there were terrible traffic jams on the roads..."

Richard's hand reached Paul’s chin and he lifted his head until he met the man's eyes again. He gently caressed his cheek. Then, their lips met. The warm kiss lasted a few seconds. Paul had been waiting for this moment for so long.

Paul’s hand reached Richard's waist and he pulled him closer, kissed him longer this time. Their hearts were pounding and they started breathing heavily. He let his tongue graze Richard's bottom lip. This time Richard instantly dominated the kiss, shoving his tongue past Paul's lips.

They continued making out, hot and heavy. Eventually they both had to pull away for a breather since they were in need of oxygen.

"Do you… feel better?" Richard asked. Their foreheads were pressed together and they stared into each other's lust-filled eyes.

"What if I say no?" Paul said suggestively as he slipped his hand underneath of Richard's shirt, just to feel his warm skin.

"Then I'd keep going onto this." Richard responded with a devilish smile on his face as their lips got closer.

Their tongues tangled as they kissed again. Paul squeezed Richard's hips.

Richard pushed his hips down and he could feel Paul's slightly surprised gasp as their lips worked together. He continued grinding down on Paul, making him hard. Everything Richard did to him just felt so good. So damn good.

"Fuck, Reesh..." The strangled moan fell from Paul's lips, he felt like fire was coursing through his veins. Richard always been so turned on. Suddnely his combat trousers were like a fucking prison. He just wanted to rip them off.

"What about dinner?" Richard asked with a small smirk, his breathing was heavy and forced as he watched Paul slowly fall apart beneath him.

"Fuck the dinner!" The answer sounded more like a moan than a reply.

"Aren't you hungry?" Richard asked again as he bowed his head down to lick Paul's neck from his collarbone through his tattoo to the spot below his ear.

"I was, but... I'm in the mood for something else." Paul said, his voice wavered.

Richard hummed against Paul’s neck before he sank his teeth into the soft skin of his partner. He admired the nice imprint of teethmarks and hickeys covering Paul's tattoed neck and throat. He teasingly traced his hand down Paul's chest.

Paul pulled Richard in by his waist before once again licking into Richard’s mouth, he groaned when Paul pushed him into the wall and pinned Richard’s's hands to the wall before working to unbutton and unzip his pants.

A small moan like noise was the reply, making Paul smirked.

"What do you want me to do?" Richard asked like some kind of slut. He knew he was a slut for Paul.

"I want you to help me in the shower." Paul whined in desperation. His heart was racing like a crazy.

"So I have to give what you want." Richard moaned and kissed him again. _Fuck dinner, the victory was coming in big steps!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Richard was watching the "101 Dalmatians" 1996 movie, non cartoon version, with Jeff Daniels.


	5. Blood and water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is still putting his plan into practice, but it turns out that Paul is not as ready to compromise as he had previously thought.

Since the last hour, Richard's thoughts have been still raging around one subject. He has already achieved half of the plan. And even though the dinner has cooled down - fuck it, it will reheat in the microwave. The right mood, good sex and Paul was ready to do everything and agree to everything. Richard started to calculate if Paul would be a responsible enough guardian to take care of a defenceless animal.

He analyzed the last few years spent together.

_He is my guardian. He does it obsessively. 24 hours a day. From unhealthy food, from gluten, from excess sugar, from GMOs, from a cold, from harmful content on the Internet, from nosy neighbours, from harsh sunlight and from too small pants. Yes, Paul helps me with everything. So he's the perfect candidate to be a babysitter!_

Richard smiled at himself and thought it was high time to try to ask a delicate question. He took advantage of the moment when Paul was still dimmed with happiness and carefully moved towards him. 

"Paul?" He started quietly, and when he drew attention to himself, he smiled innocently.

"Yes?" Paul held him tightly, kissing his mouth.

Richard broke the kiss.

"I would like to ask you something."

"Ask me anything you want." Paul didn't expect any trickery and thought that Richard had another usual whim, like shopping together or visiting his parents at the weekend, which wasn't particularly convenient for Paul, because his mother-in-law would start asking strange questions about their relationship again. Despite these five years spent together, five years spent on Sunday visits to Richard's parents, she still didn't realize that there were things you shouldn't ask about because of respect for private life. Mother in-laws don't know that their children have private lives, and no matter what!

Mother-in-law are the nightmare of this world and everyone knows it. Unless it's about some good food, or baking a cake. Then things take a completely different turn.

The more Paul thought about his mother-in-law, the more he started to feel strange about the fact that he might not survive another visit if Richard’s mother asks about her grandchildren again. Apparently she hasn't realized yet that two guys can't have children, no matter how badly they want it. At first he felt uncomfortable when Richard took the initiative of meeting my parents. Everything was quite standard. Questions about what do you do, how long do you know each other, and how long do you plan your future together?

In spirit, he was grateful that she didn't start asking about the details of their relationship, even though he saw her face, that her mouth was squeezed and she really wanted to ask questions like are you two sleeping together or separately?

Richard enthusiastically talked about their lives with the smallest details, and with each sentence the smile on his mother’s face stopped resembling a smile and began to resemble a grimace of dissatisfaction.

Paul wanted to escape or hide in any gap in the floor. But with each visit, his mother-in-law became more and more open to their relationship until she finally tolerated Paul, and it seemed to him that his work had an impact. If he were an accountant or cashier, Mommy would certainly be against the relationship. However, when she was dealing with an ex-soldier and a private security and escort agency, she changed her mind.

Paul was ripped out of his thoughts by Richard, who gently pulled his arm.

"Paul? Are you here? Or are you in another galaxy?" Richard asked.

"I'm sorry, it's just... pondered over for a moment." Paul mumbled out, and the memories of his mother-in-law completely extinguished in him the desire to continue the romantic night, which he had to admit was one of the best in his life.

"I wanted to ask you because... I think it's time for us to make another common decision." Richard said, still smiling.

Paul's thoughts began to go mad again around the alleged child.

_Oh, no, no, no._

He was scared. He immediately began to wonder how quickly he could lose his job when all the administration offices found out that the two guys were going to adopt a child. And the employer would know for sure. What will he do when he leaves the service? After all, the house has to be maintained somehow, unless Richard earns extra money as a stripper in the evenings. But then they certainly won't get the right to adopt.

"Please, don't tell me you want to have a baby." Paul asked with horror on his face.

"A baby? No, come on." Richard stopped smiling. He knew perfectly well that adopting a child by a couple of the same sex was too big.... a challenge. "I was thinking about something.... smaller."

"Like what?" Adoption of a newborn baby? Paul started to sweat out of his nerves.

"No. Don't be nervous, it's nothing."

… Or maybe to sacrifice the reputation of the housing estate and help some unwanted child? There are so many children in orphanages, without parents. And Paul could have been a good father. But who will Richard be in that case? Alternatively, he can put a wig on Richard’s head, wait for his child to grow up and raise him in the belief that.... No, it's a completely idiotic idea!

"I thought we could buy a dog."

Paul had already imagined how happy Richard's mother would be to have a grandson for her collection of miniature dogs barking at everything like battery toys and roses in the garden, until he suddenly awakened and looked at Richard with surprise. A dog? A DOG!

"A dog?" Paul, who was quite surprised, said again and then noticed that Richard was starting to climb on him again and he was grabbing him with his hands. "Stop it, stop it. Take your hands off me and let me think about it." In a single move, as they taught him at the self-defense workshop, he brought Richard to the sub position and pinned him to the mattress, which Richard started to like.

So this was hidden behind Richard's positive mood and the general romantic aura that overwhelmed Paul like a giant boulder, not letting him breathe. Richard has found the moment when Paul, tired of his work and life, is susceptible to work and life, and has begun to pump this love bullshit into his veins like an drip, hoping that Paul will get lost somewhere in the middle, lose his alertness and float away in the blissful conviction that he is happy.

"Please, let's think about it." Richard's voice has become desperate. He added to this the depressed eyes and the catastrophe was ready.

"You have gone mad. Over my dead body. Forget it! At work I had one such dog, the boss bought it from the kennel because he was the last puppy and nobody wanted him, but instead of working, the dog was still just playing." Paul responded with angry voice.

In Richard's eyes there was a spark of hope.

"So... Do you have experience with dogs?"

"I'm not going to be approached like this, smart guy!"

Undaunted Richard was slowly gaining air as if he was gathering the strength to attack.

"Paul, please." He started calmly. "I beg you."

"No!" Paul shouted.

"I'll do anything if I have to sell a kidney."

"That's not good, you'll have trouble urinating."

"I am ready for possible material damage!" Richard threw in from the momentum, even for a fraction of a second without taking away from Paul the tormented, begging look.

"No!" Paul got out of bed, caught his pants on the fly and went to break his iron rule. He was going to smoke a cigarette. After going out on the balcony he was still stupefied. He held on to it like a drowning man tries to held on razor, terrified at the very thought that sooner or later he would have to face the reality that was waiting for him.

He tried. He really tried. He was even going to rip his hair off his head. He promised himself that this relationship would be different, that he would do anything for Richard, because Richard deserves it, but he felt that it was a line he couldn't cross. It's too much...

_And this devil, this bastard, so cleverly approached me! Because he had nothing to lose! _

So Paul was defending himself, resisting while the strength in his body was enough. He knew he would eventually crack, because Richard would be unhappy. And he wants to do everything to make him happy. He had one thought on his mind. They have to discuss it thoroughly. Identify all the advantages and disadvantages of having a dog. If there are more disadvantages, he will not agree. If there are more advantages... he will see.

After smoking a cigarette, when Paul returned to his bedroom, Richard did not sleep, instead he was lying covered with a duvet to the nose and staring at a flower on the windowsill, which asked him to be watered.

"Let's talk in peace." Paul said quietly, but Richard didn't even move. "Listen, it's not that easy... That's the decision you're making for the next 10 years."

Richard trembled under the duvet. Then it was only worse. He knew that nothing could be hidden from Paul's officer eyesight. That his innate service instinct would immediately sense his intentions. For the first time, seeing Paul's eyesight, Richard felt completely small and insignificant. As if some higher power had come down from heaven just to blame him for his behaviour. Richard shrank like a woolen sock.

When Paul stretched out his hand, Richard held his breath.

"Do you think there is enough space for a dog here?" Paul asked what only made Richard worse.

Paul didn't really need words to express his dissatisfaction. His eloquent facial expression and the fact that he was looking at Richard from the heights of his undeniable officer perfection were enough.

"Don't cry at me!" Paul roared, but seeing Richard's reaction, he changed the tone of his voice a little. "Okay, just calm down. Here's what we'll do. Now we’re going to sleep, and if tomorrow morning you still insist that you want a dog, then we'll talk." He said, kissing Richard. 


	6. The team arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard can't admit his mistake and won't step down by putting his relationship on the line. Paul doesn't have time for pointless fights because he has to risk his life at work again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the "ZONA 4" group refers to the 30 km exclusion zone around the Chernobyl nuclear power plant, including the power plant and the town of Pripyat. The "4" refers to the number of reactors in the Chernobyl power plant.

He couldn't sleep the rest of the night. By five in the morning he was wondering what decision to make. Finally at 5:20 he got up. He looked over his shoulder at sleeping Richard, then quietly closed the bedroom door and went out onto the balcony to smoke a cigarette. With a shock he stated that if Richard doesn’t stop killing him nervously, he will fall into a habit of smoking and never again get rid of cigarettes from home.

Richard made up a dog for himself. Almost putting Paul before the fait accompli, preparing himself in detail for the battle. Suddenly he hit himself with his open hand on the forehead.

_Wait. What's the big deal? It's just a dog. It's not about buying a villa with a pool, it's about a dog. Maybe I’m overreacting?_

He smoked to the end, then put out a cigarette on an ashtray and went to take a shower.

Half an hour later, having flooded his coffee with hot water from a kettle, Paul did not have the slightest appetite for breakfast. Instead, he took out all the things he needed for his work and as if nothing happened started to clean them. A few minutes before six o'clock in the morning.

Then he heard the sound of an alarm clock and knew that in two, maybe three minutes, Richard, asleep, would roll into the kitchen, cursing that he had to get up in the morning.

There wasn't even space for a plate on the table Paul was sitting at. The entire table space was tightly filled to the brim. Nearest to Paul were two pistols with several magazines. Next to them there was a lot of loose bullets lying in disarray. Next there were metal handcuffs, a stun gun and a hand-held gas thrower.

Paul thought that he had to do something to deal with the growing guilt and the reflections in his head. That's why he was equipped with a cloth to clean his weapon and was trying to keep his intrusive thoughts away, trying to focus on the gun in his hand.

As expected, Richard went into the kitchen to make himself a coffee. Paul thought Richard would say hello to him, but instead he was ignored. Also Paul didn't say a word. Instead, he threw a contemptuous look at Richard when he poured water into a kettle.

When Richard saw Paul's behavior, for the first time he felt nothing insignificant. The view of Paul with all his equipment was so... angelic. As if he had descended alive from some sensational film. Paul was proud and confident. What about Richard? Richard only had a talent for upsetting Paul.

Richard knew it would only get worse from now on. Paul will start to show him every step of the way that he is above all that and that he expects obedience and an apology.

Paul immediately proceeded to arouse remorse in Richard to make him realize that the previous night he had crossed a certain line of trust and good behavior. He began with Richard's weakest point - keeping clean. While Richard used to clean the house because he hated life in a mess, Paul intended to push him even harder.

He got up and picked up his toys from the table and carried them to the bedroom, where he slowly dressed in his uniform. Then he went back to the kitchen.

Richard looked at him and sighed sadly.

"Won't you speak to me?" Contrary to expectations, he gave up and he was the first to speak up.

Paul didn’t answer anything. He approached the door and rolled his finger over the door. He stared at the frightened Richard for a moment and then, with a meaningful gesture, presented him with a gray trail of dust and shame.

Richard opened his mouth with surprise, but his adventurous nature didn’t allow him to ignore Paul's behavior for the sake of the cause. Richard thus again crossed the line Paul had set for him, naively thinking that from now on Richard would obey.

"If you think I'm going to scrub holes in the floor at night with my own toothbrush, you're wrong." He said.

Paul was once again alone with his thoughts, wondering how to force Richard to apologize. Suddenly Richard returned to the kitchen and Paul moved. He didn't like to argue with him seriously. He was about to say something when suddenly Richard spoke in a serious tone:

"You can take the car today if you need it. I'll go to work by public transport." Then he took his coffee cup and left the kitchen.

In an atmosphere of separation, they had a morning like this. Paul was sitting in the kitchen staring thoughtlessly at the burnt toast, while Richard took the couch in the living room and cluttered his head with tv news.

When a few minutes after seven o'clock in the morning the apartment door closed behind Paul, Richard dared to leave the living room. He took a shower, made his own sandwiches for the way and left before eight o'clock. He had a hard day ahead of him.

Meanwhile, Paul has reached the base of the guards. He signed himself on the list and saw on the electronic board an announcement that a special group called "Zona 4" had been formed and that it included Paul and Till.

Paul knew that it meant something very important.

"It would be a damn long day." He sighed.

As always before leaving, Till was in the garage and accompanied by a mechanic was carrying out a vehicle inspection.

When Till saw Paul, he immediately came up to say hello to him and noticed that Landers wasn't in a good mood. Till shook his hand.

"I won't even ask, because I can see that something very serious has happened. If you want to talk about it, we'll talk about it, but then. Now we have a more serious thing to do." He said.

"What is it this time?" Paul didn’t seem interested in his duties. He expected to go to the other end of the country again and that he would probably come home before midnight. Maybe it's better? He will have time to think seriously about what happened between him and Richard.

"Today, exceptionally, we’re not going to transport money or any material goods."

"So what are we going to transport?" Paul was surprised and became suspicious when he saw Till's face. "Nitrolycerine? Explosives? Chemicals? It's not our responsibility, it's what military convoys and specially adapted trucks do."

"This time we will be a support group for the police convoying the prisoner. They will transport him from the prison to the prosecutor's office for the next hearing of the case." Till explained.

Paul was silent. His work so far seemed very predictable to him, until suddenly such a situation arose. Until now he had not been involved in transporting people, but he had received detailed training immediately after receiving the job and knew exactly how to behave. In spite of everything, he was a little stressed out.

"Paul? Is everything all right?" Till asked and touched Paul’s shoulder in a fatherly gesture.

Paul got out of his mind.

"Yes, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me." Paul said with calm voice.

"Everything will go easily, we will have policemen at our side. What could happen?"

The point is, everything.

Till had known Paul long enough to be able to read his moods correctly. He knew that Paul was a workaholic who spent most of his time at work, took part in any additional training and wrote detailed reports after his service. At this rate in a year or two, he could probably become chief of staff, but Paul had more important things to do than sitting in the office. He wanted to serve.

On that day he was strangely silent. Usually the place on the way was quiet, focused on duties, but from time to time he said something but this time he didn't speak at all.

Till wasn't going to rush Paul or make him talk. He was going to support him, but he didn't want to push him. They spent the next ten minutes not talking to each other because Till was busy taking notes from the mechanical control of the privileged vehicle. Then the duty officer came down to the garage with a file of cards in his hand and with a gesture called both men to himself.

"Hello, gentlemen, we have a few things to discuss, so I would like your attention, please. Are you done with this car?" He asked.

"Yes, the report is ready, then I will take it to the guardhouse." Till responded.

"Great. Let's get down to business, we don't have much time." The officer pointed his hand at the table at the wall, at which everyone sat down a moment later. He put the sheets of paper on the table top and for a moment wondered. "As you know, yesterday evening we received information about the transport of several prisoners to the prosecutor's office for interrogation. The commandant issued a decision to create a few groups of two and three people, which will support the convoying policemen. You are one of them. In an hour you will leave for Brandenburg-Görden. From there you will take the prisoner and go with him to the prosecutor's office in Berlin. It's only 90 km, it'll go fast. You are assisting very experienced police officers who specialise in the transport of dangerous people, so everything will be done without surprises, but you have to be watchful."

"We know how to behave, we passed the exam in this field." Paul decided that he was ready to do anything to avoid thinking about Richard and his quarrel. All he wanted to do was to cut himself off from it as much as possible and the opportunity just came.

Till, on the other hand, showed a lot of enthusiasm. For some time now he had enough of the routine of transporting money. Every day looked the same, and working with bank guards gave him a headache. The guards always complained about something.

"How many cars in total go to Berlin?" Paul asked, having focused his thoughts only on the task to be completed.

"Three. We have three prisoners to transport. The case is about a murder, they can't see each other, they can't have the slightest contact. Three people, three cars. In each car there will be a driver, a commander of the convoy, two policemen and two of our guards as an additional security."

Paul said it would be a longer day than he initially assumed.

"You'll have to act fast, the cars will leave in ten-minute intervals. The prisoner will be brought in by the officer leading to the release station. There he will be taken over by the police. From the moment of the seizure, you have a few minutes to bring him to the car, secure him and move on. Another transport has to start after you. You will be the second convoy between the first and last car. The estimated time of arrival in prison is 10:40. The estimated time of departure is 11:00 at the latest. The prosecutor at 1:00 p.m. is to start an questioning. When you arrive at the prosecutor's office, you have free time until the prosecutor's office will finished . Afterwards, you will return with your convoy to prison for a car and back to the base. Then I will release you to your home. You will read the rest carefully in this report while driving to prison, there is no time to explain all the issues in detail. All I am asking is that you do not disregard the rules in force, which you know very well. Do everything as you have to and there will be no surprises."

The officer stood up, picked up his notes, then left, and Till and Paul started the procedure of arming and checking the equipment.

There was silence in the base. In fact, since the morning it was lying in corners, alleys and nooks and crannies. There was a wonderful and blissful one, unrestrained by anyone. And everything would have been fine, but... silence had a weird nature.

Touched by some peculiar feeling, Paul tore his hands off a bulletproof vest and slowly raised his head, mentally and physically emerging from deep reflection. He struck his eye into a light bulb flashing from the ceiling. He looked out of the window. The day was cool and foggy, autumn could be felt in the air. September was approaching in great steps.

Paul slammed the metal door of his locker into panic, as if it was from there that strange thoughts came to him, causing the electricity to flow down his spine.

Suddenly he felt the need to talk. And he promised himself that he would talk to Till about all the commotion with Richard as soon as they were in the car, because later they wouldn't have the slightest chance to talk during the convoy. They will have to be anonymous.

The situation required a [full uniform](https://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large-5/10-spec-ops-police-officer-swat-in-black-oleg-zabielin.jpg), which meant that apart from the traditional uniform, heavy weapons and an even heavier Kevlar bulletproof vest, he would have to wear a black balaclava and tinted goggles. He will become completely anonymous. He decided that the conversation should run quickly and efficiently in such a outfit, because Till would not see his face and the expression of embarrassment on it when he told him about what had happened. But he will leave the details of the passionate night to himself.


	7. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, cramped, closed spaces make it easier for people to share their problems. Paul needs to confess, and Till is always ready to help him.

At about nine o'clock Richard went out onto the staircase of the editorial office and smoked a cigarette. The day was foggy and gave the average person a headache, but this time it wasn't the weather that made Richard feel sick and tired of everything. In his head he was still playing the night argument with Paul and slowly began to get used to the fact that he had fallen on the battlefield and would never have a dog. Because Paul will not agree to it. There is no chance, the slightest chance, to convince him. If it hasn't been possible so far, nothing will change in the nearest future. No matter how hard Richard tries and how complicated his plans are.

In the office someone celebrated his birthday, so the accountant brought a supply of cakes and sweets, the very sight of which could give a healthy man a violent attack of hyperglycaemia. In addition to sinister gluten and equally deadly sugar, there was an unhealthy smell of fake atmosphere in the air, which Richard sincerely hated. Nothing could have softened his explosive mood. He wondered if he should call Paul or at least text him:_ I'm sorry, I'm a total asshole and an idiot, but I didn't do it to upset you._

He took the phone out of his pocket several times, but put it back in immediately. He lacked courage. Besides, at the beginning of their acquaintance Paul clearly emphasized - no phone calls at work, unless it is a matter of life and death, or there is a serious case of accident. Paul had some iron rules that didn't change at all. And he required Richard to be completely obedient on this subject. Not because he was a dictator, but because of the character of his work. He kept many operations secret because it was imposed on him by the commandant and he couldn't break the rules of the job. When Richard asked _what you were doing at work today_ and Paul had some combat duties he couldn't inform Richard of, he usually answered: **Secret/confidential**. At that time Richard didn’t ask any more questions, and the conversation turned on a different topic.

An annoying birthday song pulled Richard out of his mind in a brutal way. It took a good while before the sound was followed by the realization that half a floor above, in the accountancy room, several people were having a great time. The songs lost and gained momentum in a way that was illegible to Richard. The chants were a sign of the social life he had been avoiding since he had only been employed here. He didn’t like such a fake parties and fake emotions.

The last time he inhaled a cigarette smoke, after which he threw it out the window completely without worrying whether the cigarette butt will land on someone else's head. What he couldn't stand was the thought that Paul would behave demonstratively and show him at every turn that he was self-sufficient.

_Maybe it's worth saying I'm sorry?_

Richard had his pride. Too often he admitted his mistakes. He wasn't perfect and he was well aware of it, he didn't need to be confirmed in it. At first he thought that this time Paul should apologize to him. The point is that Paul didn’t show any guilt. In this situation, someone with a less exuberant ego would have probably tempted to reflect, maybe even let it go for a while, but not Richard. And the better Paul does without him, the more Richard's anger gets worse.

* * *

The A115 highway from Berlin to the west Germany was less crowded than they had expected at this time of day. The cars were driven at a fairly safe distance from each other at a constant speed, so no one had to check how well the brakes were working.

Radio stations without inhibitions surpassed each other in achieving maximum intensity of road messages, cataclysms and various misfortunes per minute of antenna time. There were news from all over the world about car accidents, about the landslides or a fire broke out.

Till claimed that the times were very dangerous or journalists were simply focusing too much on negative events instead of saying something positive for a change. He decided to share his observations with Paul, who hadn’t spoken a word since they left Berlin, instead of talking Paul simply stared at the highway in front of them and gave the impression that he was completely absent.

At first Paul wanted to talk, he needed it, but the longer he thought about it, the more he affirmed that maybe he shouldn't talk about it.

"If I had worked in the editorial office and were the boss of all those stupid journalists, I would have forbidden them from talking about accidents more than five negative events a day. Accidents happen all the time, because people are full of negative thinking." Till said looking at Paul, who didn't even blink. Instead, he kept staring bluntly at the gray asphalt on the road. "Instead of focusing on the road, they drive a car quite thoughtfully, wondering why they argued with their wife, or why the boss at work gives a shit about them. Journalists spin this spiral of misery, it all goes round and round. People are unhappy, so they can't focus on driving and cause accidents. Later on, a journalist tells the story on the radio, the drivers listen to it again and there is another accident."

As Till expected, this monologue didn't work for Paul at all, but even more so, it made him sail away with his thoughts far enough away that Till had to suddenly change the lane, hoping Paul will react to what was going on around him.

The car in front of them, seeing a privileged vehicle in the mirror, immediately drove off the road, leaving them with a free lane where Till could drive faster.

"Hey, man, get down on the Earth! " Till, out of balance, finally raised his voice which made Paul turned his head towards him, but still didn’t say anything. "You haven't said a word since we left the base. You didn't even comment on the weather or change the radio station when they played italo disco, are you okay?" More and more impatient, Till expected any response, but for Paul, any response required the involvement of both brain hemispheres, which had been in a furious battle since morning.

"I hate it when you push me so hard." Paul finally spoke. His voice with a perfect lack of intonation was a sign that he didn't feel like having any conversation. He was tired and distracted. But on the other hand, however, he really wanted to let go of the burden and talk like a friend. He kept asking himself if Till would take him seriously when Paul started talking about the problem in his relationship.

Till, seeing Paul's reaction, decided to push him further.

"You're unlucky today, because you know perfectly well that when something's wrong with you, I can't just leave it there. And you know what we're going to do now?" Till asked.

Paul rolled his eyes. He felt like he was in a private office with a psychologist. Or a psychotherapist! Locked in a rushing, armored car equipped with bulletproof windows, he had no chance to escape. It couldn’t be worse! And even if he talks about his problem, at best way Till will laugh at him and call him a fagot…

"You know you can talk to me about anything."

… or maybe not?

If he was at home, he would probably roll up under the duvet in a ball and cry internally. Here, however, he didn’t have such a possibility and the only thing left for him to do was talk to Till like to a priest at confession. Somewhere in the back of his head there was a fear of a possible laughing stock. They had known each other for so many years, they trusted each other. They had to trust each other. So why not tell what's bothering him?

"Of course I know I can tell you anything." Paul responded and sighed.

The problem was how his co-worker will react to it. Their future may depend on this conversation. While Paul prepared himself mentally for confession just before their departure, now he was eaten by fear and he lost his self-confidence. The more he thought about it, the more it scared him.

"Promise me you won't judge me." Paul whispered up after a few moments of intense thoughts battle inside his head. "That's all I'm asking you to do. Please."

Till started to get more and more concerned about what he heard, so just in case, he slowed down the car to a safe speed, well below the limit on the highway. Now he could concentrate on what Paul was going to tell him.

"Of course, as you wish. Just tell me, if you’re ready." He responded with calm voice, trying not to scare Paul any more.

"Remember, you wanted this." Paul warned Till for the last time. He took a deep breath, like he was about to suffocate under the weight of his entire uniform. Suddenly he felt strangely hard. Of course, the equipment with the weapons and all the other elements of the uniform weighed something over twenty kilos, but Paul was used to it. Now, in those circumstances, he had the impression that everything pressed him twice as hard as usual.

"I'm ready for everything. That's why I chose this job. I don't think that your stories will affect my world view or my mood in any way. And it will be easier for you." Till decided to support Paul. As best he could. Mostly because he knew they had a long and hard day ahead of them. They had to cooperate, more focused than usual. And if Paul continues to be absent-minded, he can easily put himself and others at risk.

"So what happened in your perfectly organized and planned life that you're so thoughtful? Tell me, I can take it all. Nothing worse than living with a guy, you won't tell me." Till felt that he had to play the role of a psychologist to get home in one piece.

"You think I'm doing something wrong?" Paul asked, grabbing every possible option not to go for a specific content, but he knew he had to face it.

"Don't change the topic, just tell me what's going on before I lose my patience."

"Okay, well... But I warned you."

"Landers, for God's sake, tell me!" Till yelled.

"Fine. I-uhm… I had a fight with Richard."

"Nothing new. You've been fighting a lot lately." Till shrugged his shoulders. At first he was worried about Paul's attitude, but then he's decided to turn everything into a joke, hoping that Paul will stop being tired of strange thoughts and get back his humor before they reach their destination. "What were you fighting about this time? Who's going to be feminine this week?"

Deep inside his soul, Paul began to regret that he said anything about it. As expected, Till didn't take it all seriously and as usual he started to joke. That was Till’s way of dealing with stress. He always tried to find a weak spot of the problem to ridicule him.

"We don't have that kind of division!" Paul was outraged to hear Till’s words.

"What do you mean, no? So how you..."

"Stop! It wasn't a fight about that. Can you stop digging?"

"Well, sounds weird in this context, but... Fine. Go on."

"We had a fight about the dog."

"A dog?" Till asked like if he didn't believe his ears. Still in the morning he thought that Paul was being tormented by some serious matter... But a dog?

"You two have to be very happy if you fight over such nonsense." Till said. He didn't expect this to be the reason for the argument, especially since after Paul's behaviour he had the impression that there was some kind of catastrophe. Meanwhile, the reason turned out to be absolutely ridiculous. "Why don't you say something more? Do I have to squeeze everything out of you?"

"When I got home from work, Richard made dinner. Not such an ordinary, real romantic dinner. One with candles and everything else..." Suddenly the uniform started to push him even harder and his mind filled with a claustrophobic feeling of being unable to escape.

Paul felt like an animal in a cage.

"Don't worry about me, if you started it, finish it. Talk, Paul, talk. You will see that you will feel better." Till, despite a slight feeling of awkwardness, didn’t intend to leave the role and with courage worthy of the highest notes tried to listen.

"It all seemed strange to me, because for some time now, since I've been working two shifts of twelve hours each, we've been literally passing each other at home. When he slept, I went to work and vice versa. There was a moment when... I doubted whether it all made sense, but suddenly Richard started to try hard to make me... you know... notice him." Paul took a short pause and breathed deeply again.

"Talk. Just talk. Go on, please."

That's what he needed. Words of confirmation.

"Richard's efforts did not end with just dinner... God, how can I tell you this?!" Paul covered his masked face with his hand. All the courage left his body and he couldn't get any more words. Someone had to do it for him.

"Okay, I see it's hard for you, so I'll say it for you and you confirm or deny it." Fortunately, Till temporarily showed more courage and tolerance than he had expected. He wasn't quite sure if it was just the help he received, or the uniform that made him feel anonymous, because both him and Paul couldn't see each other's faces and expresions of embarrassment. "Sex was good. That’s what you wanted to tell me but you were afraid." He said.

Paul confirmed with a slight nod of the head, which Till fortunately noticed.

"And what happened next?"

"It soon became clear what was behind his good humour and his emotional surroundings. Richard said he want us to buy a dog." Paul was expecting words of support, something like: How the hell could he behave like that? but instead he heard something completely different. Something that made his head swarm again with intrusive thoughts.

"What's wrong with that?" Till asked. He didn't understand why Paul was acting so strange and nervous about it.

"I don't think this is the best time to buy a dog. This is not a car or another vase you buy to you home, this is a decision that obliges you to take care of a living creature for ten years or more! A dog needs space, food, visits to the vet, toys.... Anyway, it's not about the dog. It's all about fool."

"How did he fooled you?" Till was surprised.

"His behaviour! He thought I wouldn't notice that something was happening. He simply approached me from the other side, naively thinking that if he pulled the wool over my eyes, I would agree to everything without hesitation."

"If he wants it very much.... You told me that you want to do everything to make him happy. I remember that."

"Well, yes, but…"

"If you love him, there is no but. Think about it."


	8. Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul decides to end the conflict with Richard and has good news for him. Meanwhile, the human traffickers are arriving in Berlin.

At 10:30 am, the car stopped at the main entrance gate to the Brandenburg-Görden prison. The guards, seeing the privileged vehicle as planned, opened the gate.

One of the guards came to the car and with a gesture ordered to lower the window.

"The station for receiving and releasing prisoners is here, next to the guardhouse. Park the car a little bit further, take your guns and wait for the lead guard who escorts the prisoner. The first car left literally a few minutes before you." The guardian said.

They obeyed the order and parked the car in the indicated place. Then they checked the guns and magazines again, and then went to the reception and dismissal point.

The transport of specially protected prisoners was an extremely difficult procedure, requiring good logistical preparation. The prisoner transported was usually a very media person, known in a criminal environment, accused of a serious crime such as murder or human trafficking. The whole procedure consisted of several parts. Initially, the entire penitentiary unit should be stopped in order to ensure the safety of the prisoner. During this time, the building is quiet and the corridors are isolated from the view from inside the cell. The prisoners shall not be allowed to see the prisoner being transported by any other detainee.

He shall move with the shift commander and the escort officer in the presence of the specially guarded prisoner. He is taken from his own cell to the reception point, from where he is taken to the prosecutors' office by the police together with a security unit whose task is to support the police officers. After about two minutes from the departure of a special transport vehicle, traffic is restored in the unit.

Paul's got a strange feeling of worry. This was his first time as a support officer for a convoy division of the police. He knew all the procedures, passed the exam in convoy service, but it was only a theory. Now it's time to practice.

The commander of the convoy was waiting at the door leading to the reception point. He was fully armored, in dark blue navy uniform, he had helmet and gogles on. In one hand he held a machine gun MP5.

"Senior shift commander Paul Landers and Junior guard Till Lindemann reports on duty." Paul saluted.

"Stand down. The prisoner is waiting behind the door, with the assistance of a guard. In a moment the driver will bring a car and we will be able to start the procedure of loading the prisoner. If we trust each other, everything is take place according to plan. Do you have any questions?"

"No. Everything is clear to us, our commander has introduced us to the operation in detail." Paul said and put the goggles on.

"Remember, no matter what happens, the defendant cannot see you. Keep your weapons close. We usually don’t use handcuffs during transportation. A prisoner cannot be handcuffed because it is against safety rules."

"I don’t know for whom these rules are to apply, but shouldn’t we feel safe? It is handcuffs that ensure our safety." Till asked with an ironic voice.

"Well, I am not the one who lays down the rules. We only use car belts. Of course, the prisoner is in a special lock that separates him from the officers. The lock is locked with a key and a magnetic card. There is a monitoring system in the car, we have four independent cameras. In case of emergency, we also have an isolation room for particularly dangerous prisoners. It's the only place where handcuffs can be used. If something goes wrong, the car will stop and the unit will receive an alarm signal with the exact location of the car. They will know that the convoy needs help. Let's get to work."

The driver drove up to the metal door of the reception point. When he got out of the car, Paul immediately noticed that he was the only one who was not armed.

_Nothing can go wrong, because there are too many of us. Everyone has a gun. Everyone is trained and knows how to react. Just breathe deeply and be alert and everything will be fine._

Paul stared at the yellow painted line of the paved square, so big that a large military helicopter could easily land on it.

The commander's radio came crackling, and immediately after that the message came out.

"B-9 come in."

"This is B-9, I'm reporting."

"Here is officer number 26, we have to wait a moment longer, a few prisoners are coming back from the yard, as soon as they get outside the gate, I will take the accused to the parking lot."

"All right, I'm waiting with the assistance of the guards, the policemen are already in the car." The commander spoke up, sighing hard. "If you knew what star we were taking to the prosecutor's office, you would not agree to this assistance without an order. Two weeks ago he stopped by because his friend was refuelling a car at a gas station and he was recognized by an employee. He called the patrol immediately, fortunately a few streets further, a traffic police car was at the scene of the accident, so they immediately set off in pursuit. Officers stopped him until after they shot him in the tires. Of course, he was running away. They always try to escape. Since then we have kept him in custody. Today he is going to the first audition, together with his two co-workers. I've made sure they don't have any contact with each other."

"I'm afraid to ask what he did." Till sighed.

"One guy near Berlin inherited quite a lot of land from his grandparents, and he was going to use it for growing crops. He set up a farm, wanted to grow grain. He received a subsidy from the European Union. Then our colleague showed up and demanded a tribute. When the farmer refused and scared him with the police, he burned down his house. His wife and 8-year-old daughter died. Later, the accused murdered the farmer with an axe, together with his colleagues. The photos from the crime scene were horrible, believe me." 

* * *

On the table there were many plates with remnants of chocolate cake and dirty cups. The atmosphere of the party was hovering in the air, and the satisfied employees were quietly humming birthday songs. Strangely relaxed and blushing, they were also preparing coffee. This moment of blissful happiness and general carefreeness chose bad luck to stick a wire into the contact and cause a small power-change on the line between Richard and his agent.

Maximally focused, he was squeezing the last drops of sweat out of himself, writing another column in which he did not speak very favourably about the new rock band. Suddenly the phone vibrated, moved a bit on the desk and landed on the floor. Richard sighed hard and dived under the desk, his hand touching the carpet. Suddenly he heard a rasp and the door to the office opened, and Richard's tired eyes saw his legs in the boots.

The legs were very skinny, in black stockings. They were followed by the rest of the beautiful woman. Just below the place where the legs clad in tights lost their noble name, a narrow dress in animal pattern began. A tiger? Maybe a zebra? Richard didn't know how to describe it, but something in his stomach stirred up.

In addition, long nails, strong make-up and spiky hair complemented the overall image of Cruella De Vil. The only thing that could distinguish a woman from her twin movie sister was a small white dog she was holding in her arms.

Before Richard managed to do anything, the agent approached a secretary sitting behind a desk who was just preparing an email to a power company asking them to send her the overdue bill.

"Latte with skim milk, one cane sugar cube." She announced by pushing the keys from the car into her hand. "Then, Hoffmann have to move my car. Richard?" The question was hanging in the air, unanswered. "Richard?" The woman left after a moment of silence, with clear dissatisfaction.

"Kruspe? Richard Zven Kruspe?" The secretary made sure, watching the car keys with interest. "He is there."

The secretary pointed her finger at Richard, who had just excavated himself from his office and from his impressions, horror and inner sadness he took off his glasses at the same time.

"For God's sake, Richard, how can you work here? It's a shithole, isn't it? And in hopeless taste. Will I finally get my coffee?!" The agent yelled.

Richard laughed quietly, although he didn't really laugh at all.

"Don’t you say hello to me? Of course you don’t. But I am a gentleman so I will. Hello, Hannah. Can you tell me why you came here and carry this thing with you?" Richard pointed his finger at a dog that was placed on the floor and immediately started running around the room unable to handle the emotions.

"What do you think? I'm going to motivate you to work."

"Motivate? More like rush me."

"Six months ago you promised me that you would write a few words for a book by one of my most talented students, Alonso. So what? Did you write something? Because you ignore my emails and news, I decided to come to work with you. I can't go home because your lover would pacify me." She took out a cigarette from her purse and grabbed it in bony fingers with long black nails.

Richard nodded.

"You have to write, I am not interested in how busy you are. The publishing house is waiting for a book. They offer you a contract, but for that I have to have a ready print on the table. You have to write." She repeated it.

"You know, I don't want to be rude, but I have my own private things." Richard responded.

"You’re a journalist. Journalists don't have a private life." Hannah said with a poisonous smile on her face.

Richard felt an urgent need to throw her out the window directly into the concrete parking lot under the office, and with her he would throw away the dog if it wasn't for the fact that he liked animals very much.

"I work so much time in front of the computer that I will still have a moment to go blind, I need some rest and sleep."

"Show me what you've written in the last few months, come on! I don't have time for this, I need your writing!" Hannah yelled.

They set up at a bigger desk and took to work. Richard felt a woman sucking all her life's energy out of him by commenting on all his texts with the noun "shit" or "crap". She used a red pen to mark all the paragraphs she was going to throw away.

Richard thought the world was getting ugly. Although everything was still green and the autumn was about to begin, the world lost its meaning because of the arrival of an agent from hell who Richard hated. It reminded him of all the women, equally horrible as the women he met in his life, who left deep, bleeding wounds in him. He was afraid that this would give him an infection. Meanwhile, the phone kept silent all morning, and the only vibration that caused the phone to fall off the desk was the news from the operator about the changes in the price list for text messages outside the country.

* * *

Contrary to appearances and popular opinion based on rich factual material, Paul Landers had a soul. He also had a heart, but sometimes in his case the heart, by definition, was only an organ of the circulatory system, completely omitting the functions contained in the romantics. He did not complain about any deficiencies, because from the moment he met Richard he didn’t know the feeling of failure. Everything was easier with Richard. With Richard he could do anything.

So now he was sitting in a place intended for a guard and clenched a machine gun in his hands, not taking his eyes off the transported prisoner. The whole transport procedure started quickly and went quite smoothly. The defendant was taken to a car, fastened with seat belts and taken to the prosecutor's office to testify. The hearing lasted more than three hours and only at four o'clock in the afternoon did the cars and the defendants go on a return trip. While the prosecutor was trying to establish all the facts, Paul went with Till for dinner and coffee, repeatedly wondering whether to call Richard, but finally he surrendered. He wanted to wait.

He never penetrated his nature, but he knew perfectly well who he was and, above all, why he existed; Paul Landers, like an angel of modesty and justice. Standard terms of reference: protection and suport.

So he was Richard's guardian angel. Always and everywhere, without hesitation, contrary to what fate often tried to throw under his feet. Morning and evening, he stayed faithful to Richard, doing his angelic duty, no matter whether Richard wished it or not, which happened quite often.

Until now, he thought his relationship was perfect, contrary to what his friends thought. He heard many times about unfaithful wives, fiancées who had a child with another man, or just about women going to other men, leaving their partners at the mercy of their own mothers. Being with Richard, Paul didn't have to worry about anything for a simple reason. No normal person would be able to survive with Richard for more than a week. And he managed to do it. How? Probably because he spent most of his time at work and was only at home at night.

During the afternoon dinner Till still beat to his head that he should at least once sacrifice himself for Richard and agree to buy a dog. And although Paul tried to make some concrete arguments for and against, Till was stubborn and told him to agree in the name of love.

Paul knew that it was not so easy and in the worst case the dog would end up in an animal shelter. Even if he agrees to buy a dog, the whole circus is just about to start. Paul knew nothing about dogs, except that dogs hate cats and bark. So he had a lot of backlogs and would have to read at least one book to find out something about dogs. He asked himself when he was supposed to read and what he was supposed to read, since he still lacked time and even thought that the day was too short of hours.

What are the types of dogs? There are large and small dogs. They are spotted and dotted dogs, either whole colourful or black.... white.... brown. They are puppies and adults. Which one should I choose? Are there any particular varieties? Dog breeds, yes. BREEDS. Paul knew none other than poodle. And that's not enough to buy a dog. So where to get the knowledge?

From the very moment of thinking about it, he had a headache, while the convoy was approaching the gates of the prison, and there still awaited their procedure of unloading the accused and handing over to the prison guards.

The car stopped suddenly and without warning, and the tires squeaked in the concrete parking lot. The convoy commander left the driver's cabin to open the car door.

The policemen together with Paul and Till carefully leapt from their seats.

The commander removed the magnetic card and the keys from the trouser pocket. He opened the sluice separating the defendant from the escorts.

One of the policemen was the first to enter the separated zone and direct the weapon straight into the accused.

"Cuff him." The commander gave a quick order, after which the second policeman took his position and took out the handcuffs from the holster.

Paul and Till stood right in front of the accused, waiting for any movement to take place in order to react.

Once the accused was unfastened and chained, the police could safely take him out of the car.

"This is B-9, Lieutenant Ivanovic, escorting prisoner 94941. Is the traffic in the unit stopped?"

"Yes, silence was announced in the whole area. You can introduce the prisoner, the commander of the change is waiting." After this announcement, the radio was totally silent, and the commander with a hand gesture ordered to lead the accused out of the car. Paul and Till came out at the end, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

When the prisoner disappeared behind a metal door, the policemen from the convoy unit approached and thanked Landers for his great cooperation. Then they got into the truck and drove off, and Paul was left alone with his thoughts, from which Till's voice ripped him out.

"We did our job. Now we’re going home. Come on, Paul. Let’s go back." Till said. 

Paul smiled.

"Let me drive the car to Berlin." He reached out to Till, who handed him the car keys without any comment. Paul had to take care of something, otherwise he said he would go crazy before he got home. And he still had two hours to go back.

He didn't know how to start a conversation with Richard and how to tell him that he agreed to buy a dog. After all, Richard was angry with him. They parted in a bad atmosphere in the morning, but Paul believed that when he told Richard the joyful news, he would be very happy and stop being offended. Through the eyes of his imagination, he has already seen the happy Richard hugging a small, fluffy dog. They were somewhere halfway there, when suddenly Till decided to break the silence, disturbed only by local radio stations.

"What are you thinking?" Till asked, effectively pulling Paul out of his mind.

Landers felt much better than he did in the morning. Before entering the car, he took off his heavy bulletproof vest, and as soon as he got behind the wheel, he took off his helmet, goggles and balaclava. He stopped being anonymous, but it was easier on his soul. He didn't carry extra pounds anymore.

"I'm thinking about what you told me today. That I should agree. I will do it. To make him happy. I want him to be happy, and if he wants to be happy, I have to do it for him."

A big smile appeared on Lindemann's face.

"You see, Paul, that's what I like about you. Because you are a good person. And I think you won't regret your decision. I know this isn't easy for you, but it'll all work out somehow. You will see." He said.

"In case of emergency, you will bear the blame. You will help us to raise that... dog."

* * *

When Paul returned in the evening, the atmosphere at home was tense and the subtle smell of cigarette smoke could be felt everywhere in the air. You could also hear the keyboard knocking. Paul took off his shoes and carefully looked into the living room, where Richard was sitting on the couch with his computer and was working intensively on something. He did not notice that someone had ever entered the house.

"Richard, I’m back." Paul spoke up after a moment of staring at Richard. He slowly turned away from the screen and illustrated Paul from the bottom to the top, then fixed his glasses and went back to his work.

"Really? It's almost 9 pm."

"Reesh, I want to talk to you about something. I've been thinking about it all day and I can't wait any longer."

"Is that so? Can't you see I'm busy? I work here."

Paul sighed, but he wasn't going to give up. Too many things he went through with Richard to give up because of a dog. The thing was Richard was still angry with him and didn't even want to talk to him very much.

"Please listen to what I want to tell you." Paul begged.

"What if… I don’t want to?" Richard responded with angriness.

"Please, let me talk to you. That is very important. I know you're mad at me because I yelled at you a little last night, but I think you overreacted a little. After all, I thought about it and.... well. I agree."

Richard's eyes flashed in front of the computer screen. He took off his glasses and put them on a table, trying to hide the excitement that grows inside his body.

"Do you agree to buy a dog?" Richard decided to hide his emotions for a while longer. He got up and took an uncertain step towards Paul, who was expecting everything.

Paul was afraid that Richard would explode in a moment and make a big fight.

"Well, yes. If that would make you happy. I agree." Paul responded with shy voice. He was afraid of Richard’s reaction. For the first time. Because he cared about Richard so fucking much. Luckily Richard was planning something completely different.

He threw himself into Paul's arms and pressed himself so tightly that Paul felt his ribs move.

"It was such a terrible day, my agent came to make me work on a book, but now that you've come back, my life has made sense again! You know what? I would do anything for you." Richard smiled and captured Paul's lips. His tongue was pressing insistently against the seam of his mouth the same way his body was pressing by Richard against the couch, until he collapsed on it.

Paul opened his lips with a gasp as Richard ground his hips into Paul's and grab him by his throat. Richard's mouth was hot and wet and demanding, his tongue battling and shoving against Paul's.

In seconds, Paul was out of breath. Richard allowed him to come up for air but didn't pause his onslaught, ducking his head immediately to Paul's neck and sucking skin with black tattoo on. It wasn't enough.

"Reesh, plase…" Paul panted, feeling Richard's fingers move to his uniform jacket and quickly begin unbuttoning it. When he finally unfastened the last button and shoved the uniform from his shoulders, he undoed the uniform shirt under it and looked at Paul's torso. He smiled to himself.

"I missed you so much, baby." He said before attacking the exposed skin with fingers and lips and teeth, giving particular attention to Paul’s neck.

"Reesh, I don’t wanna fight with you, I’m sorry. I am so sorry, please."

"Shh… Don’t think about it now. Just think about anything, and relax."

Breathless moans fell from Paul's lips as Richard worshipped his skin, pressing his hips greedily. 

* * *

On the road no. 96 to the south of Berlin, a bus carrying a group of french dancers was coming back from the international ballet festival to Paris. The traffic was not too big, the cars were driving at equal distances, and the road was dry and ideal for traveling.

"Oui, on revient tout juste. Nous venons de quitter Berlin. Bien sûr, nous serons là dans quelques heures. Oui, les filles sont terriblement fatiguées, la plupart d'entre elles dorment déjà. Non, il ne pleut pas, la route est sèche*." The group leader was on the phone with a smile, trying not to wake anyone around her. "Je t'appelle dès qu'on aura passé la frontière française. Bonne nuit.**"

Suddenly, behind the bus there was a car with the Border Guard inscription painted white. It changed his lane, drove over to the bus and turned on the siren.

The woman put the phone down and turned to the young girl sitting behind her.

"Qu'est-ce qui se passe?***"

"Je n'en ai aucune idée, c'est peut-être la police.****"

A few moments later the bus stopped at the exit from the highway under a huge viaduct. The night was cold. Only tall bushes grew around and it was dark everywhere. A small light illuminated the old parking lot.

Two officers in green uniforms got off the border guard's car and came to the bus.

"Good evening, Senior Sergeant Larsen and Lieutenant Witzel, traffic control. Please prepare the vehicle documents, insurance and driving licence." Said one of them.

The group caretaker stood up from her seat slightly worried about the free behavior of the officer, who immediately started to break through between the seats, shining a flashlight in every corner. Like he was looking for somebody or something.

"What is going on, officer?"

"Vehicle control." He responded, but he didn’t stop. Meanwhile the other officer took the documents and walked out of the bus.

"What?" The woman was suprised and she didn’t have an idea what was going on. She was afraid of them.

The first officer's attention was drawn to the open ventilation in the roof. He closed it, activating the blockade.

"Well, you wouldn't catch cold."

"This is some kind of mistake."

"It's not a mistake. It's time for a happy journey!" He smiled and took something out of his trouser pocket that resembled a metal can and threw it at the back of the bus. He ran outside and slammed the door of the bus fast.

The woman threw herself at the front door and started hitting it with her fists.

"What are you doing?!" She screamed loudly.

After a while, the vehicle filled with white smoke and the woman slipped unconscious on the floor. Both men smoked a cigarette and waited carefully for the gas to work. After a few minutes, a black car appeared in the parking lot, from which three men in filter masks got off. They opened the bus door and started to carry the unconscious girls out one by one to the nearby bushes and a perfectly hidden truck with a container-type trailer.

TRANSLATING

*Yeah, we just got back. We have just left Berlin. Of course, we'll be there in a few hours. Yes, the girls are terribly tired, most of them are already asleep. No, it's not raining, the road is dry.

**I'll call you as soon as we cross the French border. Good night.

***What's going on?

****I don't know, maybe it's a police patrol.


End file.
